Spanish I’ve ever heard.’
Steve translated for the whole table and they all broke out in fits of laughter.
‘What’s so fucking funny now?’ he demanded.
‘You are in Spain mate, and you’re in true bandit country too, but this is bandit country Spanish style. Welcome to the Basque region.’
Steve translated again for the rest of the company and the old woman stood to introduce her family, but this time in Español , and Darren understood practically every word she said.
‘I am Rosa, and I am the head of the family here. These are my sons, José, Roberto and little Valentino. We are all very pleased to finally meet you Mr. Butch,’ quickly adding with a gummy grin, ‘now that you finally smell like a man instead of a pig.’
‘Ah, the Basque country. Now I get it. I’m in Bilbao then?’ he reasoned.
‘No, no, you are at my farm. It’s close to Santoña, but not that far from Bilbao. I have ordered my boys not to speak Euskara, the Basque language, to you. They will speak only in Español from now on, then we all understand, OK?’ Rosa replied.
Darren understood the words, but he was confused by his situation and looked around the table with a “please help” expression on his face.
Rosa explained to him. ‘You are here because of the problems you have in Ireland. Did your masters tell you nothing about us?’
Shaking his head, Darren replied, ‘No. I know about my problems, but I’ve no idea why I’m actually here with you. No one told me anything about the Basques at all.’
Steve was watching, obviously deep in thought, as he said, ‘Look - I think I’d better explain things. You are here to train their people. The Basques need you to teach your own particular brand of combat to them. But you’re also here to keep out of the Brits’ way too.’
Rosa went a little further. ‘We needed someone with specific skills to train our new fighting men quickly and, when your problem arose in Belfast, we asked for you to come here to us.’
‘Yes, but who exactly are “you”? I still haven’t got a clue.’
‘Oh, I thought you would have guessed by now. We are members of E.T.A. and this is one of our training camps,’ Rosa patiently explained to him. ‘Have some food now and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you’ll meet the rest of the boys. I have told them all about you, and they are looking forward to the meeting.’
Darren tucked into his meal then sat quietly thinking the last few days over with a good cognac and, of course, a cigarette or two. Shortly afterwards he was shown to his room by the eldest son, José. His bedroom was every bit as palatial as the bathroom and he couldn’t believe the high standard of luxury he saw in the old farmhouse. From the outside it looked to be falling down, but everywhere he looked inside he saw valuable antique furnishings. The place really was fit for a king. Sighing as he climbed into the old four-poster bed, he snuggled down and closed his eyes. In an instant he’d drifted off into a very deep and restful sleep.
Early the next morning he was awoken by a gentle knock on his door and he rubbed his eyes his to clear his vision as Valentino entered with a breakfast tray.
‘Good morning Mr. Butch. Please take this breakfast and hurry down. You have much work to do today,’ he told Darren with a smile.
After eating his fill, Darren sat on the side of the bed, lit a cigarette and drank two small cups of the very strong, dark coffee. He would have preferred tea, but that didn’t seem to be an option here. Finished with breakfast, he quickly showered, dressed and started downstairs. He entered the dining room and found the whole family once again waiting for him. He was greeted with handshakes, smiles and good mornings by all, and he even got a kiss on the cheek from Rosa herself. Several coffees and half a pack of cigarettes later, Steve arrived. It was now almost seven thirty, so they left the house and everyone climbed into an old Transit
Steve translated for the whole table and they all broke out in fits of laughter.
‘What’s so fucking funny now?’ he demanded.
‘You are in Spain mate, and you’re in true bandit country too, but this is bandit country Spanish style. Welcome to the Basque region.’
Steve translated again for the rest of the company and the old woman stood to introduce her family, but this time in Español , and Darren understood practically every word she said.
‘I am Rosa, and I am the head of the family here. These are my sons, José, Roberto and little Valentino. We are all very pleased to finally meet you Mr. Butch,’ quickly adding with a gummy grin, ‘now that you finally smell like a man instead of a pig.’
‘Ah, the Basque country. Now I get it. I’m in Bilbao then?’ he reasoned.
‘No, no, you are at my farm. It’s close to Santoña, but not that far from Bilbao. I have ordered my boys not to speak Euskara, the Basque language, to you. They will speak only in Español from now on, then we all understand, OK?’ Rosa replied.
Darren understood the words, but he was confused by his situation and looked around the table with a “please help” expression on his face.
Rosa explained to him. ‘You are here because of the problems you have in Ireland. Did your masters tell you nothing about us?’
Shaking his head, Darren replied, ‘No. I know about my problems, but I’ve no idea why I’m actually here with you. No one told me anything about the Basques at all.’
Steve was watching, obviously deep in thought, as he said, ‘Look - I think I’d better explain things. You are here to train their people. The Basques need you to teach your own particular brand of combat to them. But you’re also here to keep out of the Brits’ way too.’
Rosa went a little further. ‘We needed someone with specific skills to train our new fighting men quickly and, when your problem arose in Belfast, we asked for you to come here to us.’
‘Yes, but who exactly are “you”? I still haven’t got a clue.’
‘Oh, I thought you would have guessed by now. We are members of E.T.A. and this is one of our training camps,’ Rosa patiently explained to him. ‘Have some food now and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you’ll meet the rest of the boys. I have told them all about you, and they are looking forward to the meeting.’
Darren tucked into his meal then sat quietly thinking the last few days over with a good cognac and, of course, a cigarette or two. Shortly afterwards he was shown to his room by the eldest son, José. His bedroom was every bit as palatial as the bathroom and he couldn’t believe the high standard of luxury he saw in the old farmhouse. From the outside it looked to be falling down, but everywhere he looked inside he saw valuable antique furnishings. The place really was fit for a king. Sighing as he climbed into the old four-poster bed, he snuggled down and closed his eyes. In an instant he’d drifted off into a very deep and restful sleep.
Early the next morning he was awoken by a gentle knock on his door and he rubbed his eyes his to clear his vision as Valentino entered with a breakfast tray.
‘Good morning Mr. Butch. Please take this breakfast and hurry down. You have much work to do today,’ he told Darren with a smile.
After eating his fill, Darren sat on the side of the bed, lit a cigarette and drank two small cups of the very strong, dark coffee. He would have preferred tea, but that didn’t seem to be an option here. Finished with breakfast, he quickly showered, dressed and started downstairs. He entered the dining room and found the whole family once again waiting for him. He was greeted with handshakes, smiles and good mornings by all, and he even got a kiss on the cheek from Rosa herself. Several coffees and half a pack of cigarettes later, Steve arrived. It was now almost seven thirty, so they left the house and everyone climbed into an old Transit
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